


The Luckiest Man in the World

by PaintingWithWords (paint_with_words)



Series: Gift Exchange Fics [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Husbands, M/M, Victuuri Summer Lovin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-11 19:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15979199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paint_with_words/pseuds/PaintingWithWords
Summary: “Remind me again to tell my father how glad I am that he suggested I try to sell my art in a good-looking foreigner’s café,” Yuuri yawned into his hand.Viktor pulled Yuuri’s hand up to his lips and kissed it, his thumb stroking the top of Yuuri’s golden wedding ring.“When you do, tell him thank you for me as well,” Viktor said, a soft smile gracing his features.Yuuri leaned in to kiss his beautiful husband.  Even though Viktor would say he is the lucky one in their marriage, Yuuri is pretty sure he's actually the luckiest man in the world.





	The Luckiest Man in the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reached_ultramarine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reached_ultramarine/gifts).



> This fic is part of the Victuuri Summer Loving gift exchange and was written for reached_ultramarine, who asked for sweet fluffy goodness. I hope this is kind of what you had in mind and that you like your gift!

Yuuri pulled into the driveway and parked next to Viktor’s car, grateful to finally be home after another long day.  Tanabata was next week and all of the children were busy making some kind of art to celebrate.  Most were content to paint pictures of fireworks in the evening sky, but a couple of the older students had more ambitious projects in mind, which kept them- and him- long after the regular school day had ended.

Sighing, Yuuri shouldered his backpack and headed inside.  He was glad Viktor had finally gotten his car back from the shop.  It meant he wouldn’t have to get up so early in the morning tomorrow.  He really didn’t mind driving his husband to work, but he wasn’t fond of having to get up a couple of hours before sunrise to do it.  Combined with the long days he was putting it right now, it was taking its toll.  It would be pure heaven to sleep until 6am tomorrow.

“Ya doma,” Yuuri called as he walked in the front door and slipped out of his paint-splattered shoes.  He was greeted by Makkachin, who trotted up to him and promptly dropped a slobber-coated tennis ball at his feet.  Yuuri nudged it with his toe, sending it rolling down the hall and towards the back patio door.  Makkachin stayed right where she was and watched it roll past her, then looked up at him as if to say, “That’s it?  You can do better than that.”

Yuuri laughed and started to go and retrieve the ball for her, but stopped when Viktor came up behind him, slid his arms around Yuuri’s waist, and placed a kiss on the nape of Yuuri’s neck.  Yuuri shifted and turned in Viktor’s hold, draped his arms over Viktor’s shoulders, and gave his husband a proper kiss.

“Privet, milyy,” Viktor said as he released him and headed back to the kitchen.  Yuuri followed, wondering what Viktor was cooking for dinner tonight.  Whatever it was, it smelled delicious.  Yuuri smiled to himself.  There were definite benefits to having a husband who loved to cook and was good at it. 

Two pots were on the stove, one of which was filled with a thick, reddish sauce that slowly bubbled on the back burner.  The other pot was full of water almost ready to boil.  An empty bottle of pinot noir was on the counter next to the sauce.  Yuuri peeked in the trash and smiled when he saw onion peels, tomato skins, and mushroom stems.  Without a doubt, Viktor had made his mother’s marinara sauce.  But why was there flour on the countertops?  And why was the rolling pin out?  Did Viktor make bread, too?  Yuuri could feel his mouth watering at the thought.

“Taste this,” Viktor said, holding up a wooden spoon with a bit of the sauce on it.  Yuuri obediently leaned over, blew on the sauce, and let Viktor feed him. 

Yuuri could taste basil in the rich tomato sauce.  And garlic.  Lots of garlic.  Viktor watched him expectantly, studying him for a reaction.

“What do you think?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri closed his eyes and sighed appreciatively.  

“It’s good, really good,” Yuuri replied.  “But it’s so much work to make your mother’s recipe!  What’s the special occasion?  Getting your car back?”

“Partly,” Viktor said as he leaned his hip against the counter, his expression softening in a way that always made Yuuri’s heart melt.  “Mostly I wanted to thank you for getting up so early every morning this week and taking me to the café.  I know how much you like to sleep, especially with all the projects your kids are working on right now, and I really appreciate it.”

Yuuri closed the distance between them and leaned in to kiss Viktor.  Without a doubt, he was the luckiest man alive.

“And the tomatoes we got at the market this weekend were about to go bad,” Viktor murmured against his lips. 

Yuuri looked up at Viktor and laughed. 

“Well, thank you for the wonderful sauce and for being practical at the same time, my love,” Yuuri said.  “But that still doesn’t explain all the flour on the countertops and your shirt… and your pants… and the floor…  Did you make bread, too?” 

Viktor smirked in response.  “Well, I did, but most of the mess is from making pasta.”

“You made pasta, too?” Yuuri yelped. “Vitya, that’s even more work!  Why didn’t you just use some of the pasta we already have?”

“Because this is my mother’s recipe,” Viktor said, feigning disdain.  “You should know by now that my mother’s marinara doesn’t go on store-bought pasta, not even the stuff in the refrigerated section that you think is good.  It deserves only the best.”  Viktor dropped his voice as he caressed Yuuri’s cheek.  “And you, my love, deserve only the best.”

“Thank you, Vitya,” Yuuri said quietly.  “But, really, you didn’t have to do all this.”  Homemade bread and pasta and marinara took so much time and labor, no matter what Viktor said.  And it was a great deal of trouble to go to just to say ‘thank you’. 

“But I wanted to,” Viktor replied.  Before any more discussion could take place, the timer on Viktor’s phone went off and he moved to grab the folded dish towels on the counter. 

“Can you please get out the cooling rack for me?” Viktor asked as he opened the oven door.  Yuuri grabbed the wire rack out of the bottom of the cabinet at the same time that Viktor pulled the baking tray out of the over.

“Oh my god, that smells so good,” Yuuri breathed as Viktor tipped the baking tray and the loaf of bread slid onto the wire rack.

Immediately, Viktor put the tray in the sink and checked the pot of water on the stove.

“It’s boiling!” he said, sounding as happy as a child on their birthday.  Quickly, Viktor opened the refrigerator, took out the angel hair pasta he’d made, and lowered it into the pot.  He grabbed the spoon he’d used on the sauce and began to stir the pasta.

Makkachin butted her head against Yuuri’s shin and whined, wanting attention.

“Does she need to go out?” Yuuri asked. 

Viktor shook his head.  “She was out for half an hour already.  I let her in a few minutes before you got home.”  He looked down at Makkachin and cooed, “Someone just wants to play.”

“I’ll take you outside to play after dinner, I promise,” Yuuri murmured as he reached down and absently stroked her head.  He was entranced, watching as Viktor managed the sauce and the pasta at the same time, as though it was nothing at all.

And maybe for Viktor it wasn’t.  He’d owned and operated a café for almost six years in the heart of Hasetsu and regularly did several things in the kitchen at once.  He’d simultaneously made a separate birthday cake for each of the Nishigori triplets and made it look as easy as breathing. 

Yuuri watched as Viktor cut the heat to the sauce and pulled a thin piece of pasta out of the boiling water to check for doneness.  When Viktor nodded and turned off the heat on the pot of water, Yuuri took the colander out of the cabinet and set it in the sink.  He moved out of the way and watched as Viktor drained the pasta into the colander.

A few moments later, they were seated at the table, enjoying dinner.  Yuuri reached out and let his fingers brush against Viktor’s hand.

“Thank you for this wonderful homemade meal,” he said, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks when Viktor quietly smiled.  Viktor was always saying he was the lucky one, but Yuuri was pretty sure Viktor had it wrong, that _he_ was the lucky one in this marriage.

When they were done, Yuuri picked up the plates and headed over to the sink.  Viktor followed him, as though he was going to do the dishes.  Yuuri frowned.  It was his night to do them, and even if it wasn’t, after all the work Viktor had done making dinner, there was no way he’d let him do them.

“It’s my night to clean up,” Yuuri said as he pulled the gloves out from under the sink.  But before he could say anything else, Viktor pulled a clean dish towel out of the drawer.

“If you wash, I’ll dry,” he said with a wink. 

Yuuri sighed.  He knew he wasn’t going to win this one.

“Okay, I guess so,” he teased.  Viktor playfully swatted him with the towel as Yuuri filled up the sink and began washing.

Together they made quick work of the dishes and put up the leftovers.  Yuuri swept, taking extra care to reach all the little nooks and crannies for any stray bit of flour that may have fallen on the floor.  Viktor mopped the floor once he was done.  That was one thing about having a husband who ran a café for a living: he always made sure everything was spotless in the kitchen when he was done.

After dinner, they drifted out to the back yard, Makkachin hot on their heels with her ball in her mouth.  She dropped the ball on Yuuri’s foot and took off into the small backyard, eager to play catch.

They took turns tossing the ball to her.  As evening gradually gave way to night, Yuuri leaned against Viktor’s shoulder, more tired than he wanted to admit.  It was comfortable, leaning against his husband, listening to the cicadas singing to each other-

“Is that a firefly?” Viktor asked, making Yuuri blink and sit up.  In the tall grass, there was a little telltale winking of light.  Yuuri smiled as another light briefly sparkled a couple of meters away, answering the call.

As the summer sky above them grew darker, the lawn lit up with a multitude of little lights flashing at each other like they were playing hide and go seek.  Makkachin saw them too, and left her comfortable position lounging at their feet to trot back out into the lawn to chase and snap at them.  Both Viktor and Yuuri laughed at her antics. 

Yuuri took Viktor’s hand in his as Makkachin chased fireflies in the lawn. 

“Remind me again to tell my father how glad I am that he suggested I try to sell my art in a good-looking foreigner’s café,” Yuuri yawned into his hand.

Viktor pulled Yuuri’s hand up to his lips and kissed it, his thumb stroking the top of Yuuri’s golden wedding ring.

“When you do, tell him thank you for me as well,” Viktor said, a soft smile gracing his features.

Yuuri leaned in to kiss his beautiful husband.  Yes, without a doubt, he was the luckiest man in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> A little lesson in Russian (with thanks to Dyeingdoll for the translations!)  
> Я дома- Ya doma- I'm home  
> Привет, милый- Privet, milyy- Hi, darling


End file.
